Two weeks ago on the 18th of November a group of oddly dressed Monash students converged on the
I was there dressed as a flinders street emo with my black fringed hair, black nails, black jeans, chucks, band-aid clad wrists and a small black sketch book of self pitying poetry.
As fate would have it a girl who'd had a crush on me when we were kids happened to be sitting across from me on the train into the city as I coloured my nails with black marker. I don't think she was entirely convinced when having recognized her I tried to explain with an apologetic "Halloween party".
In another noteworthy emo-related event, we were set upon by a hoard of angry intoxicated young emo-punks, who decided that they owned the particular patch of grass we were occupying. Long story short an angry little girl, not more than thirteen, punched Jeremy (Who is very much the opposite of a short angry girl) in the nose. The sight of this six-foot-something guy manically laughing in disbelief, blood streaming from nose and mouth was apparently enough to scare them off.
That aside it was a most interesting way to spend my birthday, not that I let anyone know it was my birthday, I thought would be rude to announce such a thing at someone else's party, so I just enjoyed the day. Perhaps that ought be added to the journal of tears, some excerpts of which are posted here by popular demand.
There were some short poems by myself.
... even the roads leave me :(
Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
and so am I
You attend all my sporting functions
You bought me a car
Gave me use of a credit card
But how can I feel pain?
How can I feel pain?
How can I feel pain?
When you're being so supportive
Your black heart gouges me like your black fingernails
The waves of black make me drown like a drowning kid at the beach
But you're not a beach
Beaches are fun
And full of sun
And children run
They don't fall down and cry like I do
I'm not afraid to cry
The tears come naturally
They pour down normally
They are black and they stain me like your monthly friend
And your girlfriend's monthly friend
That black black bitch with the fake black hair
More fake than yours, much more fake than mine
You two make a handsome pair
Because she looks like a man
Why not this man?
For I am a man
A man with great hands
That can hold you like no woman can
I am your fan
Forever, I am
Really, I am
Like truly, I am
But you are not mine
And it's not sublime
Because your black black girlfriend has rotted your heart
And I'm just the worms that live in the flesh
I feed off you but you give me nothing
Nothing to make me strong
To make me live long
I will die in this black world
I will die tomorrow
And you will feel sorrow
When I am gone
Gone to the black black place in black black space.